Notes: Hah, I got what I was asking Buddha for! No, not the pony and plastic rocket, the M&M&M! The inhuman amount of glee I feel right now? Um, yeah, I don't have any fucking words, seriously. Just, like… glee… glee! I also have, like, three other one-shots of these three being written!

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Matt Parkman has quickly learned to hate Mohinder's weird-ass tea.

This does not, however, mean that accidents don't happen every so often.

Matt's not a morning person, not like Mohinder or Molly, so when he staggers into the kitchen and grabs the first mug he sees, thinking it might just be coffee, he quickly regrets it. A heartbeat later, Matt proceeds to freeze in mid-swallow, eyes popping wide open, slowly swishing the liquid around through his teeth as he slowly realizes what he's just done.

It tastes, he decides, like something crawled into his mouth and died.

"Are you okay?"

The police officer's head swivels around, finds Mohinder staring worriedly at him, mug of heavy black coffee in one outstretched hand, looking so completely helpful that Matt almost wants to shoot him. "Why are you drinking my tea?" the geneticist demands a heartbeat later, and quickly snatches the mug away, blinking when he realizes Matt is still just standing there, eyes bugging out of their sockets. "This is a very special blend, Matt, for bad days."

"I think he's having a stroke," Molly offers, and Mohinder blanches in sudden realization, setting both mugs down and grabbing Matt by the arm, dragging him hurriedly to the sink. "Spit," he orders quickly, and fills a glass with water, shoving it quickly into the telepath's hand. "Drink, swish, spit…" Off Matt's twitch, he gives the other man a quick pat on the arm. "Keep repeating until you can breathe again."

"Did you kill him?"

Mohinder shoots Molly a dirty look over his shoulder and the girl is smart enough to quickly bolt out of the kitchen, babbling over one shoulder that she needs to get ready for school and can't be bothered. Matt's doing what he told him to, quickly swishing and spitting over and over again, the bleak look slowly fading from his eyes.

"Here's your coffee," Mohinder offers cautiously but Matt flinches back from the sight of the mug, shuddering, and Mohinder quickly takes his tea and flees, allowing the other man to recover at his own pace. "We'll wait until you're ready," he shouts uneasily over one shoulder and makes a beeline for Molly's room, not sure whether he wants to be delighted at the giggling he can already hear coming from behind the door or infuriated for Matt's sake.

An hour later, when Matt finally joins them in the car still looking like an electrocution victim, he still isn't sure.

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